Chasing Demons
by oleanderedits
Summary: Glenn touches up Daryl's Demons (30DayOTP Prompt Challenge Day 2)


"Some of the details on this one are a little blurred," Glenn said with a frown, squinting hard at the lines that were now more grey-blue than black. The tattoo was old. Gotten when Daryl was a teen.

"Jus' do your best," was the gruff reply.

Glenn sat back and lightly thumped him on the shoulder blade, "Whatever you want. Strip down and get in the chair."

He liked Daryl. The man had been coming in to get tattoos from him for the better part of the last year. Really seemed to like Glenn's work and his confidence in him had boosted his own. It certainly had helped him feel like he could put out more of his own designs rather than sticking strictly to the books as he'd been for the five years prior. And that was good because he'd been starting to feel like he was stuck in apprenticeship hell. Getting a client base of his own was important for moving up in the shop.

This wasn't the first time Glenn had done a tattoo on Daryl's back. He'd added what Daryl called a 'Cherokee Rose' to his left shoulder blade. He'd later added onto it with a bottle of peach schnapps as the 'vase' for it, making it as big as the two demons climbing Daryl's right side. Mirroring them in a way.

It was, however, the first time he'd ever touched up one of the tattoos he already had. Daryl was like many people who got tattoos in that way. Trying out an artist with smaller and bigger ones until they felt they could trust them not to mess up what was already there. Usually it only took one or two tats to cement that kind of trust. For Daryl it had taken seven.

The first two were ones on his arms, on the inside of his wrists. Glenn was pretty sure they'd been randomly selected just because Daryl wanted something done but didn't know what and decided to just wing it. He really didn't think Daryl was the kind of person to completely and earnestly desire a triceratops or one of those 'tribal' suns. But Daryl had been happy with them.

The next three were more thought out. An open book with pages flying away like birds decorated the outside of his left ankle. A Hello Kitty holding a crossbow (a detail Daryl had added himself and Glenn had cleaned up) sat proudly on his left shoulder, shown off with every sleeveless shirt he wore. And a fairy was hidden on the underside of his right arm. It was difficult to see and Daryl had been shy about getting it, but he'd really wanted it.

The last two were, of course, the rose and the bottle. Daryl had said they represented friends who had finally helped him leave home and get away from his father. He'd told Glenn that he needed to get them done. So he could try and work past his fear of people seeing the evidence that he'd been 'weak'. The scars that crisscrossed his back were still very prominent, dark parallel lines. He'd shaken so much when he let Glenn first see them. Had forced himself to get over it (his own words).

Despite that first step, Glenn was pretty sure he was one of the only people who had ever seen Daryl's back. The man was pretty shy when it came to his body. But that was okay. Everyone healed differently. Glenn was just happy he could be there for Daryl in his own way. Even if it was just as his tattooist, Glenn felt like he could call Daryl a friend. The man shared so much while he got his tats done that Glenn was certain Daryl felt the same.

Once he got the needle on and set to skin, Daryl started talking. Rambled on about his brother and what stupid shit he was getting into. They had a couple hours to chat, so the conversation went from Merle to bikes to hunting, back to Merle and that somehow got into a whole long rant about about Merle poking his nose into Daryl's sex life. Or lack thereof.

Glenn laughed as he finished up for the session, "One down. We can do the other in two weeks. Give you time to heal for the first. Maybe Merle will give up on getting you laid."

"I wish," Daryl muttered, rolling his shoulder and stretching his arms. "Asshole thinks that now I ain't living with Daddy I should be bringing as much pussy back home as I can. Like I don't know better or something."

"Know better?" Glenn asked as he got the light bandage ready to cover the tattoo for a few hours. Daryl already knew how to care for it and Merle would probably be the one cleaning it for him.

Daryl snorted and glanced behind him, "STDs. Merle's covered in them. I ain't laying any pipe 'less I know the sewer's clean."

There was no way Glenn couldn't laugh at that. After a moment he let his eyes meet Daryl's and he leaned back to look him over. "Well," he started, blushing slightly as he looked down. "My uh.. 'sewer' is clean. I don't know if you're interested or not, but... you know... if you're not, it's cool. Won't bring it up again."

When he looked back up, Daryl was chewing on his lower lip. Like he was really considering it. He ducked his head and coughed, "I ain't ah... laid pipe in a while... or in anyone with that kind of..." He cleared his throat, "plumbin'."

"That's okay," Glenn grinned and stood up to start cleaning up his tools and ink. "We don't have to lay pipe right away. We can start with... fixing a faucet? Tightening the knobs. Stopping a leak."

Daryl doubled over against the back of the chair, his face a bright red that was creeping down his neck. When he caught his breath, he slapped Glenn on the shoulder, "Shut up 'fore I keel over. I already said yes."


End file.
